


Regards,

by lubbydub



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fingerfucking, Frottage, Sex, dude it's complicated just read the fucking fic, mentions of abuse?, mentions of emotional manipulation, second chapter is where the SMEX is, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 14:04:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18942478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lubbydub/pseuds/lubbydub
Summary: Meredith and Orsino, the morning after a heartfelt letter.





	1. prologue?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explanations because otherwise this will be horrifically confusing.

This fic is a sequel to a private fic written by a friend. Both of these take place in a really sort of convoluted and long slowburn AU where the both of them survived Kirkwall and are recruited into the Inquisition for their expertise on relevant things. I know, I know. No relation to the other Inquisition AU fic btw. The one with the fingerblasting against a tree. Though I _was_ thinking of writing a sequel to that.

 

I'll try my best to sum it up here:

 

-Meredith and Orsino had a pre-existing romantic relationship during the events of DA2. It was supposed to be a mutual power-play, seduce-them-for-information sort of thing, but Oops, All Feelings! and they end up genuinely being in love.

 

-Unfortunately, the Idol happens to Meredith.

 

-Meredith and Orsino survive the chantry explosion and subsequent shitshow, thanks to Hawke slapping their shit silly and stopping them from doing anything drastic, and are taken into custody by the relevant authorities.

 

-The Inquisitor decides they need these two because they're the closest to the red lyrium and the events that kickstarted the whole nonsense, and a couple of combatants would be useful too.

 

-Orsino is largely seen as a hero who had to make sacrifices to escape the thumb of the awful mean bad Knight-Commander Meredith, even after the evidence put forth by Varric in Hawke's stead. Meredith is a disgraced templar that nobody in Skyhold likes, and boy do they let her know about it. Every fucking day.

 

-Orsino  _would_ be happy about the latter, except that he wants her dead, for good reason. He's not content with the way things played out at all. He doesn't want to be a hero, he doesn't want to be  _alive_. He wants his circle, his  _family,_ and if he can't have that, he wants their murderer dead. Eventually people just kind of. Stop talking to him because he's such a toxic cesspit of hate and fury.

 

-He does, however manage to make friends with Vivienne, who's had a couple memories of him from the First Enchanter summits and respects his cunning and intelligence. Orsino does, as well. He also somehow manages to make friends with Sera, because deep down under that protective spiky coating of chocolate and pain, there's a mischievous and playful side to him that she can appreciate. Also because he doesn't bat an eye at her bawdy humor and sometimes provides her with good material. A lifetime around horny bored teenagers kind of desensitizes you to everything after all.

 

-The Inquisitor is also trying to get him to stop being such a prickly asshole by giving him counselling.

 

-Meredith on the other hand rolls with the punches and just starts taking steps to atone for the horrible shit she's done. She bonds with Blackwall(hm, wonder why) over woodworking and sulking in the barn with the horses, and slowly the soldiers start to warm up to her. Don't worry, she's still her hard-headed, stubborn self. Just with a lot less paranoia and insanity gnawing at her consciousness.

 

-Meredith still loves Orsino-- she always has, ever since she had a taste of the comfort he gave her back in Kirkwall. When she sees how mired in hate and anger he is, she tries her level best to pry him out of it. She put him there, she has a duty to bring him out of it. Also because she loves him and hates seeing him that way. She does a lot of things. Peace offerings in the way of wood carvings. Talking to him. Grovelling. Apologising. Nothing works. She's proven to him that she can't change, after all. Nothing he did or tried in Kirkwall worked.

 

-Eventually she gives up on the direct approach and tries to do something else instead. And then it hits her. There are survivors from Kirkwall that we see in DAI after all, and it's likely some of them made it off the Gallows before the Order stormed the place.  She starts following Inquisition patrols out to the various locales, looking for people from Kirkwall, any mages, and directing them to the Inquisition's protection. Indirectly of course, if they saw her they'd freak the fuck out. Then she talks to the Inquisitor and requests (begs and scrapes, really) to send him to live with what's left of his family and let him recover, but to never let him find out how they gathered in the first place.

 

-Mercy of mercies, it actually helps Orsino make progress. His heart slowly starts to heal and he slowly starts to let go of the anger. Especially when he sees that his babies are thriving and surviving and have babies of their own.

 

-Meredith sometimes pops by incognito to check on how they're doing, since the refugee life is pretty rough. She tries to do what she can, and when she's in Skyhold she makes furniture, toys, anything she can make out of wood to send along with the supply caravans so that the mages can have them. She just credits it to Blackwall. Of course, this doesn't entirely go as planned because those things take up space that supplies would otherwise, so she has to bargain and argue, or she has to deliver it herself.

 

-Eventually this results in Orsino catching her unloading it at wherever the fuck him and his magelings are staying and he tries to confront her about it, but she bolts before he can get any answers. Letters to her are ignored as well.

 

-To cut to the chase, they have a long period of on-again-off-again while he struggles with the embers of his love for her and the absolute burning seething hatred he has for her. And he's jealous that she spends any of her time being close to anyone; but really he just wants her to suffer like he has. He knows she'll do just about anything to make him happy so he gives her shit for hanging out with Blackwall and it's a messy deal. Kind of abusive really.

 

-Eventually Meredith just kind of. Gets tired. She loves him, but she can't keep taking it on the chin. By the time the Inquisition has that assault on the Well of Sorrows, they're just about ready to give it all up. There's a conversation here that happens that I haven't worked out yet, but they end up coming to the conclusion that yeah, they want a future together, they want to be together, but he has to meet her halfway.

 

-Once it's all over, they go back to Skyhold with a promise to each other.

 

-Orsino is notably more affectionate and gentle with her for weeks when they're back at Skyhold, but he doesn't seem to want to stay near her at all. He'll eat with her when he sees her, or greet her in the halls, but he won't spend any longer than a few moments. Meredith is convinced he's going back on his promise again and says fuck it, that's it. She gives up.

 

-Then there's a letter left on her pillow one night.

 

-It's from Orsino, and it's basically a big long "I love you, I'm sorry for the way I acted, I promise to try, for really real this time. If you don't want to be with me, that's okay. If you do, come to my room."

 

-So she does, and they hug and just cuddle to sleep. Then that's when my fic happens.

 

I told you this was long and stupid. Anyway, on to the smut.


	2. The actual fic

Meredith wakes to warmth.  
  
She wakes to a hand sifting through her hair and kisses being pressed into it, and she decides to keep her eyes closed a little longer. _Anything_ to hold onto this fading dream.  
  
It's a cruel mercy, she thinks, that the lyrium-- in both its forms, running through her ravaged systems-- would let her remember times that have long passed her by in such clarity and detail. She remembers Kirkwall-- _Orsino_ , remembers the heated nights in his bed and the comfortable mornings at his breakfast table. She remembers his soft smile, filled with love _for her_ and his yet softer touches, both chaste and not.  
  
Meredith has many regrets, and spurning his love and kindness to listen to the voices of corrupted lyrium and her own weakness is the greatest of them all.  
  
Perhaps it’s that which the red song twists into a sad little fantasy for her this morning, where she thinks she lies in the arms of her lover after he left a letter on her pillow filled with words of forgiveness, of love, and an _invitation to try again_. Meredith sighs, feeling that familiar, gnawing, empty ache in her chest. She clenches her jaw and prepares to banish it all to begin her day. Scissoring her legs, she starts with kicking off the blankets, because the ambient chill of Skyhold's perpetual cold will properly jolt her awake.

 

Except all she gets is a bony shin at the end of her foot for her trouble, and a familiar pained yelp.

 

“Meredith! Wh-- What're you doing?”

 

Her eyes fly open and she immediately squints at the sliver of daylight that hits her in the eyes. More importantly, she sees-- _feels_ another person tangled around her. Meredith's heart pounds as she nearly falls out of bed pulling herself to a sit, rubbing the sleep away with furious hands. When her vision finally clears, _damn her useless aging eyes,_ the sight that greets her steals her breath. Orsino, darling, _beloved_ Orsino lies with his back against the stone wall and a confused, hurt expression on his face. She knows the question in his eyes; _do you want me here?_

 

“I-- Orsino--”

 

But how can she answer, when she doesn't even know if what's before her is real or not?

 

Of course she wants him here; she wants it more than anything in this world. She wants him to be here until the world turns to dust, wants to burrow into him and be one and never be away from him again. Her hand reaches to touch his face with shaking fingers, gasping and retreating when he feels warm and solid, and doesn't disappear. Somehow, or another, she's given him the answer they want, because he stops looking quite so terrified and defensive.

 

Somehow, or another, he seems to have noticed her tears before she has.

 

Orsino sits up to be face to face with her, gently wiping at her cheeks with his thumb. He finds his voice again, shushing her gently and cupping her face. Meredith helplessly leans into his touch.

 

“This is real. You're awake. I promise,” he murmurs. His other hand finds hers, bringing it up as he dares a kiss to her knuckles. All she can do, amidst the tempest in her mind paralyzing her with indecision, is mirror the gesture. It's familiar and safe, and it turns out to be the key. The dam breaks within her and she tries to hold it back with her face in her hands, hiccuping sobs and all. Orsino hugs her around her shoulders and she wraps her arms around his waist in kind, letting her tears spill into his shoulder where her face is tightly pressed. For a long time, that’s where she stays, her eyes sore from how hard she’s pushing her face into him, and her chest aching with an emotion she can’t name for the life of her. All she knows is that she feels bright and hot inside, elated and in pain at the same time-- and she doesn’t know _why_ she’s crying. Meredith should be _overjoyed_ , should be kissing him all over and smiling so wide her face hurts, but she’s not doing that, and Orsino’s bound to think she doesn’t want him here after all.

 

She tries to think, against the press of time, against the whirl of relief and _joy_ and pain in her heart, of words that will convince him to stay and of how much she wants this between them, but all she can choke out past the lump in her throat is, “I’m sorry.”

 

Orsino almost doesn’t hear her from where she’s muffled against him, but he does, and he pets her hair with a soft, “What for?”

 

“I should be happy. I am, but-- I should be _happier_. This is all I’ve wanted for the past three years, and I can’t fathom why I’m crying like this when I finally have it. I’m sorry. I can’t think,” she says, miserably, with her chin propped on his shoulder. The emotion is starting to calm within her, starting to relinquish its hold on every fiber of her.

 

“Overwhelmed, maybe?” Orsino offers, gathering her hair and smoothing it away from the shoulder he presses a sweet kiss to. She shudders at the intimate contact, noting that his lips feel dry and chapped, and wonders if he’s been taking care of himself in all the time that he’s been writing his letter. He holds her like this for a little longer, until her breath steadies and her tears stop falling, until the sharpness in her chest dulls to a manageable ache. When she dares to pull back, she sees his eyes, the eyes she’s always loved, green and warm in the sunlight. They’ve changed-- of course they have-- but even in the tired set of them, with the deep grooves of wrinkles of the skin around them and the dark shadow of his own grief, there’s the gentleness she’s always known them to have. It’s worth it, she thinks, that all that time and all her efforts have put it back there. It makes him more handsome than any of his noble, sculpted features could.

 

Meredith then sees the wet spots her tears have left in his nightshirt, and she opens her mouth to apologise again when he kisses her.

 

He presses into her mouth with his tongue and she gasps as her lips part for him. Meredith realises that she hasn't kissed him like this in a long, long time. She's had weeks of kisses on the cheeks from him, on her knuckles. Even the one they shared before leaving the Well of Sorrows was chaste, albeit lingering. It's comforting and thrilling all at the same time. Orsino cups her face again, thumbing over her cheekbones as if he's studying her. She wants to study him, too. Now that there's a _promise_ , to be better and to _endure_ , she doesn't fear their next fight as much as she used to-- She doesn't fear that this time will be their last. Answering him is the easiest thing that's come to her in years, mirroring his motions languidly. Orsino gently presses her backwards, to lie back down, and she follows. They take up the position they fell asleep in the night before, and she sighs, more content than she feels she has any right to be.

 

“I hope I haven’t-- scared you away,” she admits quietly, feeling a blush settle over her face-- though it may well be the sunlight. Orsino smiles, a small quirk of his lips reaching the intense gaze in his eyes.

 

“I’m still here,” he replies, in comfort rather than banter. “And, if I might add, so are you.”

 

Meredith spots the insecurity that crosses his face, glad that he’s even showing it to her, and overcome with the urge to kiss it away. There’s so much she needs to tell him, too, and she finds herself unable to choose between joining her lips to his again and talking. He needs to know she bears him no resentment; at least, not anymore. He needs to know she wants to be with him, every hard, torturous step of the way, until he can lay his mourning to rest.

 

“You’re already everything to me,” Meredith whispers, carding her fingers through his soft silvering hair. Orsino’s breath hitches slightly in recognition. “You always have been. Barring-- you know. But even then, even when I made my terrible, awful choices, I’d only ever wanted the best for you. No, it doesn’t excuse any of it, but you have to know I loved, and _love_ , you. You wondered what it was that kept me pestering you throughout our time here, and it’s that. That I love you. So, so much. And I’m so grateful that you loved me, too. It wasn’t a stupid notion, you know.”

 

Orsino swallows, and she can see his eyes brimming with tears unshed.

 

“Love _was_ enough to change me. If I’d been… I don’t know. A better person. Stronger. You wouldn’t have lost everything. I’m sorry this is all you have left,” Meredith murmurs, nodding down at herself, “but I promise to make you as happy as I can. I’ve been working on myself all this time to make sure I can do that.”

 

His face twists into something pained, something ugly, and now apparently, it’s his turn to cry. Meredith patiently wipes at his eyes, planting light kisses on his nose and forehead, to reassure him that she isn’t shying away from him in the least. She feels his fingers tighten in the cloth at her back, pulling her closer but also keeping her away.

 

“I can’t forgive you.”

 

A cold weight settles on her chest.

 

“I _can’t_ , Meredith. I loved those people. They were everything to me,” he hisses, and anger wells up in her chest. At herself, for putting him into such a painful, awful dilemma. He loves her, she can see it plain as day, but his anger runs too deep. “But I love you, too. What do you expect me to do, hearing that? I can’t love you if I’m going to hate you in every other breath. It hurts too much. I’ll hurt _you_ too much.”

 

“I want to work through it with you,” she blurts out, unable to hold herself back any longer. “It might be selfish as all hell, but I want to. I want to know you again, inside and out, and I want to help us be happy again. I had a choice you know, back then. To return what was left of your family to you and then stay out of your life. Forgive me, my dear. I tried against all hope, but I couldn’t stay away. It’s selfish, to want to be the reason you smile, after everything I’ve done.”

 

Orsino nods, “It is selfish.”

 

“But I won’t ask you to forgive me, nor will I force you to. You’ve given me another chance, and I’m taking it. To make the rest of your life better. To never hurt you again. I can’t right my wrongs, but I can do better. That you’ve allowed this, even this, is more than I could’ve ever hoped.”

 

He bows his head, taking a deep, shaking breath. She strokes his ears and his hair as he collects himself. When Orsino looks up again, his brow trembles, and his tears well up and spill forth.

 

“Then I trust you to do so. _Promise_ me, Meredith Stannard, like I’ve promised you. We stay together, and we _try_ , even as the prickly, unlovable bastards that we are,” he says in a watery voice, baring himself open. Meredith brings her hands down from the back of his head, to grasp his and bring them to their fronts. Her rough fingers squeeze his slender ones with a resolute grip, and she wills all her resolve to show on her face.

 

“I promise.”

 

When Orsino surges forth with a hand on the back of her head to kiss her again, she thinks that she could very well get used to this. His face is wet still, and she can taste his tears on his lips. She has a moment of thinking they taste bittersweet, fiercely vowing that these will be the last ones he sheds because of her. For a time, that’s all they do, being acquainted again with the taste of the other; their warmth. Meredith’s hands come up to cup his jaw, thumbs stroking the skin of his jaw right below his ears. Orsino groans softly and pushes her onto her back, and a realisation creeps into her bones.

 

She had noted, when she woke, that he was half-hard against her thigh where she had it tucked snugly between his legs. And now that she’s paying attention to the rest of his body and not just his face, she can feel his groin getting harder, pressed up against her like it is.

 

_Oh._

 

There were many things she’d missed about being with him, and the memory strikes her now that _this_ was part of it, too. In the day, she’d dreamed of his kisses and his smiles, and his fingers tangled with hers. In the night, they took on an entirely different colour. Dark as the sky that held the moon on those fantasy evenings, warm-- _hot_ , and no less loving or gentle for it. Orsino pulls back, far too soon, and she has a long moment of staring up into his pink, uncertain face before she realises she needs to give him an answer. Her tongue is too heavy right then, missing the feel of him already, and she lifts her knee to firmly press between his legs instead.

 

“ _Meredith,_ ” he croaks out, rolling his hips against the warm, firm muscle of her thigh. Her hands fist in his shirt and yank him back down for another kiss, deciding that she can’t bear to be away from him a moment more. Orsino falls forward and catches himself with a hand beside her head, the other shoved up her shirt to touch her skin. Meredith arches into the graze of his burning fingers with a needy sound in the back of her throat, pushing her tongue into his mouth with a demanding insistence. He _insists_ back, just as fiercely, shoving his own knee into the apex of her thighs and she gladly takes the offer of friction. She _burns_ , there, hotter than she has in years, and the ache is so familiar and unbearable that she can’t believe she’s ever stood a day without having him like this.

 

Orsino pulls back from her, and she briefly tugs on his lip with her teeth, reluctant to let him go. He kneels over her, fevered forehead pressed onto the pillow where he mouths at the freckled skin of her neck and shoulder, both his hands riding her shirt up so that he can fondle her breasts. The cold Skyhold air hits her heated skin and raises bumps on her immediately, but she can’t find it in herself to care, not when his breath is hot and heavy in her ear and his hands fumble so desperately with her sensitive flesh. His lips move to her neck, pressing wet kisses to the cord of muscle there, and his thumbs remind themselves of the dappled texture of her nipples. She’s reminded of his hands too, his burn scars, his paradoxically smooth skin and all. Meredith tips her head back to let him suckle at the place where her jaw meets her neck, and sighs when his rubbing turns to gentle plucking and tweaking. A small part of her wonders if she _is_ dreaming after all, because it simply feels too good.

 

Then, he pulls back, leaving her cold. Meredith growls at him, canting her hips against his knee.

 

“You’re crying,” he says, sounding at a loss. His hand is wiping a fat tear off his lip, where it must have rolled onto from her cheek. She blinks, and realises that she is.

 

“I missed you. A lot,” is the only response she can come up with, and the most honest answer she can give. Because she has, and feeling it all again after so long, is a bit much for her right now. She isn’t willing to slow down or stop however, because--

 

“I want it. I want to be overwhelmed.”

 

His pupils widen, and his jaw hangs a little more slack. She feels him throb against her thigh. Orsino’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and her eyes follow the motion.

 

“Far be it from me to deny you that.”

 

His hands drop to untie her cotton breeches, shakily fumbling with the laces. Meredith would offer to help, but her own are shaking just as much, if not more, as she pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it to the floor. Orsino’s eyes devour the sight of her bared, milky skin as he shoves the clothing down her thighs, and he moves to lower himself to kiss it but stops. There isn’t enough room on the bed for him to move that low, nor can he bend his back that far anymore. He clicks his tongue in annoyance and pats the side of her thigh, urging her to sit on the edge of the bed. Meredith swings her legs over and he moves to kneel on the floor.

 

The very hard, cold, stone floor.

 

Orsino hisses in pain, and she realises that it isn’t doing his old joints any favours. Passing him his pillow from his side of the bed, she finds herself laughing quietly under her breath. He looks up at her with a quirk of his eyebrow, kissing the jut of her hip as he pulls a leg out of her breeches.

 

“Nothing, I just-- You’re getting old,” she says fondly, holding his face and running her thumb over his lips. He rolls his eyes in feigned annoyance, then opens his mouth to take the digit into his mouth. The warmth of his mouth, the clever flicks of his tongue against the tip of her thumb melts her belly even further, and she moans and lets her knees fall open. Orsino hums in a pointedly salacious way when he turns his eyes to the prize between her legs, and she swats at his shoulder with a deep blush.

 

Nestled in the dark blonde curls, she’s sure he can see how wet she is, how wanting. He strips off his shirt then hefts her leg over his shoulder, _needing_ to feel her skin on his. The contact is electric, almost, and Meredith’s breath stutters. Orsino licks his lips again, then brings his hands up to part her folds and dives forward in the same motion. The press of his flat tongue against her is good, _too good_ , and her back arches with her hands fisting in the blankets. The first slow, thorough lick from bottom to top draws forth a pleased grunt from her, and the second coaxes out a high, breathy moan. He hums in reply, doing it again, and again, _and again_ , until she finds it hard to breathe and her hand is gripping at his hair. Orsino doesn’t take his attention away from her cunt, pushing her back with a hand on her shoulder so that he can reach her breasts, so that she can see him. Meredith leans on her elbows and her heel struggles to find purchase on his back, his name and fevered praise falling from her lips as she bucks against his wonderful mouth and stars burst in her vision.

 

He’s making good on his promise to overwhelm her, she manages to think, and the hand in his hair shifts to caress his ear, to spur him on. Orsino moans against her wet, slick flesh, the hand holding her open moving to tease his fingers at her entrance. Meredith swallows thickly and presses forward in request.

 

“Yes, _yes_ , Orsino. _Give it to me._ ”

 

He lifts his mouth from her and she whines, and he kisses her hip again with a reverent murmur of her name. When his fingers slip into her, she almost doesn’t notice-- she’s so wet, but the burn, the lovely stretch of her around his digits makes her shout. She missed him, she hears herself say distantly, she missed him so damned much. Orsino’s lips seal around her clit, hood and all, and he sucks it forward to lash at it with his tongue, curling his fingers in her the way she remembers he used to.

 

After all this time, it seems their bodies haven’t forgotten each other at all, not when he’s urging forth slick wetness with every rub of that sweet, burning spot inside her, not when his teeth play lightly at the throbbing nub in his mouth with just enough pressure to make her whine like nobody’s there to listen.

 

Meredith’s every last nerve is on fire, reawakened and pushed to breaking all in the span of a few minutes, and she's _yearned_ for it so much. She’d be a damned liar if she says she hadn’t thought about just this when she had only herself and her hands to ease her pent-up desire. It doesn’t compare, not in the least, to his breath puffing hot against her skin and his hands and mouth relentlessly chasing her orgasm as if it were his own. She _begs_ , begs for _more_ and for _mercy_ , but he doesn’t let her go, not until she comes with her hips arching off the bed and a long, guttural cry coming from deep in her core where she swears she’s about to snap in half; she’s coming so hard.

 

When she falls back against the sheets, skin drenched in sweat, Orsino doesn’t release her. He greedily laps at her for a minute more, thumbing at her hole to wring every last bit of pleasure out from her until her thighs melt from the steel they’ve become over his shoulders. Meredith fair cries with the pleasure of it all, weakly pushing at his head.

 

Fuck, her ears are ringing. When was the last time she’d come like that?

 

She doesn’t have the time to try and sift through her pleasure-burnt mind for the memory, because Orsino crawls over her to kiss her, even as his joints crack from being held in place too long. She can taste herself on his tongue, on his lips-- on his chin, for Andraste’s sake. The elf was ever too good at doing this to her. He pulls back to hiss as the pain overtakes his lust for a moment, and she gently soothes her hands over his thighs to ease it away.

 

“Your turn?” she offers, noting that there’s a sizeable wet spot on the front of his trousers, and that the sight of it makes her want him in her.

 

“ _Fuck_. Give me a minute. I’m sorry,” he laments. She peppers his cheeks and nose with slow kisses, rubbing her thumbs over his ears. Orsino gulps and swats her hands away. “No, don’t do that. I’m close enough as is.”

 

Meredith hasn’t forgotten how sensitive he is, not in the slightest. She’d always found it arousing and charming in equal measure, how worked up he was able to get from the smallest of things. In Kirkwall, after their game of dominance-- of making the other crumble into submission with pleasure-- had turned to something softer, she found it was a flattering indicator of how interested he seemed to be in her.

 

That he still is, makes her heart swell.

 

Orsino kisses her cheek with a grunt and stands gingerly, untying his laces with surprisingly stable fingers. She toes off the pants hanging on her ankle. When he gets his off, his cock bobs up from under the band of his underwear, red and glistening at the head. She has a thought that she’d like it in her mouth, to taste him as he’s tasted her, and reacquaint herself with every last bit of him. He looks shy when she looks up at his face. Even before, he’d made it very well known to her that he was glad to appreciate her body instead of letting them focus on his-- Orsino had always distracted her from the conversation by kissing her everywhere, then driven it out of her head entirely with his mouth between her legs. She’d always been happy to see it. She loved every mark and crease, every odd dip or swell, and it hasn’t changed in their time apart.

 

Now? Now she’s even happier to see him, with a healthy pink flush to his skin and more meat on his bones. His time in Skyhold has let him feed himself, freed him from the old lifestyle of constant and severe stress, and his Knight-Enchanter training with Vivienne has given him a good, solid build. She beckons him closer, and hugs him around the waist tenderly when he steps forward.

 

She loves him. She loves that he’s thrived and gotten better. She tells him as much with a kiss to his sternum, and adds on that he’s gotten more handsome. Meredith feels his skin flush with embarrassment under her lips, and looks up at him with an honest, gentle smile.

 

“Now I can thrive with you,” he says quietly, stroking her hair with love. Meredith hums, pleased at the contact, and her hands drift down to squeeze his now-much-firmer-rear. Orsino yelps and blushes redder, and she giggles. “You fiend.”

 

“I very much like the new physique, if I’m honest. It makes me happy to see you stronger. And, perhaps,” she says, between kisses to his skin, as her hands go further down and tease at his inner thighs with her fingertips, “you might be able to actually hold me down.”

 

His cock twitches from where it’s pressed against her chest, and his lips part in that pretty way, again.

 

“Do you want me to?” Orsino asks, quietly, as if she might reject him and laugh it all away as a joke. She doesn’t, of course. Meredith looks up at him with dark, resolute eyes, and whispers _yes_. He shudders under her hands, one of his coming to press his thumb against her lips in a mirror of what she did for him just earlier.

 

“Can I suck you?” she asks, and he gasps. Her hands are at his front again, caressing the skin of his hips, his belly, his thighs, anywhere but near his cock, because she knows how easily he spills. Orsino bites his lip, moving his thumb away before she can take it into her mouth, and shakes his head.

 

“I--” he starts, then stops. He presses his lips together in a way that would be adorable, were it not for the fact that he clearly wants something and isn’t comfortable asking her. She reminds herself that this is all still tender, still early, and that she has to wait for him to trust her.

 

(The other part of her points out that his cock is leaking onto her breast, and he’d be happier if he got it out, figuratively and literally.)

 

Meredith waits, rubbing at his hips in a soothing manner as he softens against her. Orsino bends to kiss her forehead, then takes a deep breath and speaks, “I w-- I want to finish in you. Is that okay?”

 

At his admission, she can’t help but groan, and there’s a flicker of fear in his eyes before he realises that it’s a sound of want, not disgust. Meredith nods, not trusting her mouth to say anything that wouldn’t scare him away, and pats the bed next to her.

 

“Do you want to lie down if your knees still hurt?”

 

Orsino seems as though he wants to say that no, he isn’t in pain, but ends up nodding and sitting next to her with a quiet grunt.

 

“I’m too old to be proud, anymore. I’ll take all the comfort I can get,” he says with a wry smile, kissing her on the lips. Meredith stands so that he can get comfortable, picking the pillow off the floor for him to prop it behind himself. He settles into a recline, reaching out for her hand. She lets him take it, and squeezes it firmly, climbing onto his hips. The cold has started to affect her again, and her nipples harden in the frosty air. Orsino brings her down for a kiss, slow and appreciative. When he touches the stiff pink peaks, however, she shies away with a squeak.

 

“Cold!” she protests. Orsino flushes with a smile, laughing quietly at the noise she’s made, but she doesn’t have time to feign a pout at him before he replaces his fingers with his mouth. Oh, she finds that much better, leaning forwards into the contact with a soft sigh. The cold touch of his hands provide a nice contrast as they ghost down her sides and over her ass, and she remembers how much he used to love squeezing it when he had his hands free. In fact, he does just that, fondling the cheeks with a slow, but firm grasp, a finger occasionally dipping into the warm wetness between her legs. Meredith sighs his name, thumbing over his cheekbones and threading her fingers into his hair. He hums in reply, moving a hand between them to adjust his cock such that she’s sitting on it with her slit.

 

It’s more than he expects, it seems, because his warm tongue leaves her breast so that he can moan deeply against her collarbone. Her thighs and her lips are still slick, and the weight of her presses the underside of his cock wonderfully against her hardening clit. Meredith tests him with a slow rock of her hips, humming at the glide of him against her. Orsino curses softly, wrapping his arms tight around her waist. She slips against him one, two, three more times, then lifts herself off him when she sees that he’s short of breath and flushed crimson.

 

“You’re too good, Meredith,” he breathes, gripping at her thighs like it will stop him from coming too soon. “Touch yourself. Please.”

 

He says it with such hunger that she finds herself blushing as deeply as he does, spreading over her shoulders and neck. Her calloused fingers dip between her legs, slowly rubbing the roughened joints against her nub. She watches him, watching her intensely. His green eyes are a small ring around the hungry dark of his pupils, darting all over her form to take her in at seemingly random.

 

“Give me your fingers, Orsino.”

 

His eyes snap up to hers, and his hand shakily comes up to her wet cunt. She closes her eyes at the feel of his soft hands against her knuckles, then she spreads herself for him. Orsino makes a strangled sound deep in his throat, testing her with a finger, then two. Meredith exhales, canting her hips down towards his palm. Her fingers proceed to continue gliding over her swelling clit, the rasp of skin against skin, and hair, filling the silence between them. Orsino gets her to shuffle forwards on her knees with the other hand on her back, and he tips his head to suckle at her nipple. It’s good, having him close like this, with his fingers in her and his mouth on her skin. As much as she loves for him to torture her with his tongue and fingers at her wetness, she loves having his body pressed close much, much more. She gets to feel every tremble, every beat of his heart, every gasp of pleasure and moan of want.

 

Meredith is getting close again, the increased contact bringing her to a slow, but powerful peak. Orsino’s fingers work her frantically, curling and rubbing and scissoring inside her as she pants. Her own hand picks up the pace, too. The other, settled across the back of his shoulders, lightly rake their nails over his skin. He growls, low in his throat, possessive and rebellious, giving her a light nip above her nipple in response. She whimpers at the soft flash of pain, and then again when he remembers how much she’s always liked being _bitten_ , though he can’t reach her favourite spot on her neck at the moment. He settles for marking her across her breasts and collarbone, which feel just as lovely, and Meredith lets a cry fall from her. She’s always loved to provoke him into being aggressive, into _taking_ instead of giving-- Meredith always wants to see him as caught up in his lust as she is when they lie together.

 

Every nip and subsequent soothing wash of his tongue over the tender flesh sends jolts down to her sex, a low, broiling heat building in the base of her spine.

 

“Orsino,” she moans, shoving at his wrist to pull his fingers from her. He seems offended when he’s made to pull away from her wet, inviting heat. Then his eyes roll back into his head when she seats herself on his cock in one smooth motion. Orsino beats his fist against the bed, biting his lip so hard she thinks he’ll break skin, and she can’t have that. She pulls his head forward, swallowing him in a fiery kiss, where he moans helplessly into her. Meredith rolls her hips in a brutal pace, squeezing around his thick, hot length with every pull and push. It doesn’t take long.

 

“ _Fuck, Meredith._ Meredith, Meredith, _Meredith_ \--”

 

“Come on, _come on, Orsino_ \--”

 

He cries out against her cheek as he throbs, then spends in her, hips snapping up violently in his orgasm. Orsino’s fingers scrabble at her hips, her ass, clawing and grabbing in equal measure, letting out pained moans with almost every spurt. He hugs her waist again, holding her close and panting into her shoulder, kissing her neck as she pulls him out. His fingers roll and pinch her nipple between them, while she grinds herself to completion on the softening ridges of his cock head.

 

They wait, together, for the thundering in their ears to silence and their flesh to cool. Then, with great effort, they adjust their boneless bodies to lie side by side, and Orsino pulls the blanket over their shoulders before he settles against her with a tired and content sigh. She dozes against him, skin sticky and with sweat, but she can’t bring herself to care.

 

“I love you,” she says-- _has_ to say, not because he might’ve forgotten in all they’ve done, but simply because it wells up so strongly within her that she can’t keep it in. He kisses her eyelids, repeating it back to her.

 

Meredith falls asleep to warmth, soft and fierce in her heart.


End file.
